


The Hired Gun

by Dorminchu



Series: Insult to Injury (and appendices) [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - Ian Fleming
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book: Casino Royale, Canon-Typical Violence, Flash Fic, Gen, Headcanon, Movie: Casino Royale (2006), Non-Graphic Violence, One of My Favorites, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27743227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorminchu/pseuds/Dorminchu
Summary: 2006: In the basement of the summer villa, Le Chiffre's execution falls to an enigma.
Relationships: James Bond & Vesper Lynd, Le Chiffre (James Bond) & Lyutsifer Safin, Lyutsifer Safin & Vesper Lynd
Series: Insult to Injury (and appendices) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971970
Kudos: 2





	The Hired Gun

The mission, for Safin, was simple enough. He’d made a reservation at the Royale-les-Eatix alongside the rest of the socialites but not participated in the game of _baccarat_. He had merely observed on the sidelines and waited for the night to wear on, speaking only when it was required of him. Shortly before Lynd was kidnapped he got the orders from one of White’s associates—an informant by the name of Mathis—and two hours later he was making the trip on-foot.

The message from Mr. White went something like this: _“Le Chiffre's luck has run through. If Quantum is to recover from this, he must be eliminated—we will deal with the rest accordingly. Do not concern yourself with Lynd or 007—it is best for them to remain unaware of our greater involvement.”_

**⁂**

It was still half-an-hour before sunrise when he reached his destination. The car used to transport Agent 007 and Vesper Lynd was parked. There were two men stationed at the gated entrance to the French-style summer villa. Possibly more around the perimeter, but the single car and the impromptu departure from the _Royale_ would suggest this was a hurried getaway, with less time to take defensive measures.

The villa was immaculately kept, which would require a lot of time as well as funds to invest. Ordinarily it was closed to the public—but around these parts, and especially concerning a man of Le Chiffre’s character, it was unwise to kick up any dust about the matter. Evidently for tonight there had been an exception. Coming from the _Royale_ No 12 was dressed formally, in a dark grey suit and dress pants to match. The only difference was the black mask that obscured his face, and the silenced gun at his hip.

He eliminated the first man with a single shot to the chest, puncturing his lung. The second man did not hesitate to give him the information—"Le Chiffre? He is waiting for the money, with the girl”—before he was summarily dealt with.

He went into the villa, down into the basement. The smell of stale sweat and cigarettes permeated the room. The lighting was poor. There were two more men waiting for him; two silenced shots and they crumpled, choking on their own blood. The woman, Lynd, heard all of this happen and sat erect, silent. She was in a chair, facing the corner of the wall, with her wrists and ankles bound. She had been stripped, her dark hair hung loose around her face. She turned her head to keep him in her periperhals. No 12 glanced at the door opposite them and back to her.

He approached until he could see the whites of her eyes. Her lashes fluttered. A trickle of dry blood stained the corner of her mouth, her lower lip split, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. The look she was giving him seemed to say, _I know you’re going to finish the job. Go ahead, shoot me. I’m only live bait._

He asked: "Le Chiffre is in there?" His voice was slightly muffled under the mask. Lynd lowered her head, perhaps anticipating a clean shot to the sternum.

He turned and went into the next room, opening the door slowly. In the middle of the room were two men. The first was tightly secured at the ankles and wrists against an upturned chair; on his back, naked as the woman. From a quick assessment of his build and height No 12 could discern this was Agent 007. The second, Le Chiffre, who was sitting in a chair opposite Agent 007, raised his hackles. In one hand he held onto a carpet-beater. The other hand resting on his lap now shifted towards the table at his hip and a particularly sharp-looking knife.

"Drop it," said No 12. Le Chiffre relented. His lame eye was oozing red. He did not wipe his face. He kept his hands very still in his lap, clenched to fists.

"No 12," he breathed out. There was an air of finality to the scene.

"If you know why I am here," said No 12, "then you know what I am about to ask of you."

Agent 007 was twisting about on the floor, trying to get a good look at what was happening. No 12 ignored him. Le Chiffre's face became a twisted mask of consternation. “You—you tell him, I'll get the money—” he stopped talking and his eyes lowered a fraction to the gun trained on him, at breast-height. Then he looked No 12 in the eyes, sweat beading his brow. The thin mouth trembled but no sound left him.

No 12 shot him in the chest. Le Chiffre tried to cry out but could not. A second shot to the head did the rest and he crumpled slowly under his own dead weight to meet the dirty floor. No 12 paused, assessing the lone survivor.

“You are fortunate enough to have been spared twice today. My orders do not concern you or the woman. But if our paths should intersect again, it will not be by chance, or mistake.”

007 was barely conscious. No 12 went and stood over him. “Should you try and pursue the matter beyond this, we will find you first.” The door to the adjoining room opened. Lynd staggered over to where 007 was and No 12 went back up the stairs and out into the clean, balmy summer air. Twilight spilled a pinkish hue over the road from which he’d come. In a few hours he would tell Mr. White the job was through.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me after seeing _No Time to Die_ 's promotional material with Safin in the mask in conjuction with the novel _Casino Royale_. If you don't know, in that continuity, Le Chiffre is not killed by Mr. White at all, but a masked hitman from SMERSH. Vesper's fate plays out with a slight variation as well. (I kinda like the book's ending more, I won't lie). I'm not sure if Purvis and Wade knew about this SMERSH character but I'd like to think this is an homage. If not, I'll do it myself! With this fic! :D
> 
> In real life, SMERSH (Russian: СМЕРШ) was an umbrella organization for three independent counter-intelligence agencies in the Red Army formed in late 1942 or even earlier, but officially announced only on 14 April 1943. The organisation was officially in existence until 4 May 1946, when its duties were transferred back to the MGB. The head of the agency throughout its existence was Viktor Abakumov, who rose to become Minister of State Security in the postwar years.
> 
> The fictionalized SMERSH is portrayed as a massive counterintelligence organisation which continues operating into later decades. In this it more greatly resembles the real-life KGB. Fleming's SMERSH aims its operatives abroad for the subversion of the West, with the additional goal of killing Western spies, particularly James Bond of SIS. SMERSH's headquarters are variously stated to be in Leningrad or in Moscow, Soviet Union. The name is a portmanteau of two Russian words: "SMERt' SHpionam" [Смерть Шпионам, Směrť Špionam], meaning "Death to Spies".
> 
> [Here is some information from the novel proper about the fictionalized variant](https://ia800305.us.archive.org/25/items/JamesBondBooks/Casino%20Royale_0001.pdf#page=23).  
> And for comparison, [here is the scene with Le Chiffre in the movie](http://dailyscript.com/scripts/Casino-Royale.pdf#page=91), and [here is how Ian Fleming](https://ia800305.us.archive.org/25/items/JamesBondBooks/Casino%20Royale_0001.pdf#page=128) handled it. I have simply mashed the two continuities together for my own scheming ends.


End file.
